


The Shoe on Cinderella's Foot

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Meeting, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Kingdoms, Legends, Palaces, Prophecies, balls, fairytale AU, fairytales - Freeform, fluff and comfort, lady in waiting betty, lady veronica, meet cute, prince jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Prince Jughead hosts a ball to find a wife.And other stories.





	The Shoe on Cinderella's Foot

**Author's Note:**

> This was semi-prompted by the very wonderful and talented gay_for_rey1999, in that she totally inspired me to write it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"Where's my dad?" Jughead asked angrily, stalking up to one of the servants. Their eyes widened and they swallowed thickly, nervous despite their armour. 

"U-um, P-Prince Forsythe, the King said not to-"

"Where's my dad?" He asked again, and the servant mumbled  _the war room_ so Jughead shoved past them and stalked down the halls of the palace. He burst in to see his father hunched over and talking in low voices to the General of the Army. His father stood as soon as he entered, and the General bowed lowly in respect.

"Jughead." FP warned, raising a hand "you're not supposed to be-"

"Here?" Jughead guessed angrily. "I'm supposed to stay in the library with my head buried in a book whilst you have secret meetings about sending us to war? Is that what I'm  _supposed_ to do, dad?" He asked. His voice hard and furious, and FP rapt his knuckles on the table, where there lay a small scale model of their kingdom and the surrounding territories. The king closed his eyes as if in pain, before taking a breath and turning to the General. 

"Give us a moment, General."

"Of course your majesty," he murmured, bowing, and then on his way out murmuring to Jughead "your highness," and then he was gone, the large oak door closing with a heavy thud behind him. Jughead stared at his father expectantly, and FP sat down. His crown glinting its bronzing gold in the low light, whereas Jughead's was lying forgotten in the library. 

"What is this dad?" He murmured "do you think I can't handle it? Is that it? I'm too clueless and naive to help? This is my Kingdom too-"

"It's not that, Jughead," FP sighed, shaking his head. "Do you think I want to go to war? Do you think I want this to happen? Of course not! But I'm doing what I have to do to so that when I die this Kingdom is in the best condition to receive you." He stood up then, stalking towards his son, heavy cloak dragging behind him, and cupping his cheek. "I  _want_ you to spend all your time in the library. You're so smart, so much smarter than I could ever be that I know you'll avoid all of this when you're King. So I want my mistakes to be  _my mistakes._ Do you understand, Jug?" 

Jughead clenched his jaw, nodding. "I understand, but...Don't keep things from me, dad," he whispered. His eyes returned to the replica of their Kingdom. "I can help you. I'm your son, you know? Just because I'm a little more theoretical doesn't mean I don't want to learn about war-"

"I don't want you to know about war-"

"Well, how practical is that?" Jughead warned, voice rising, "if I don't know anything I'll be woefully underprepared." He examined the model a moment longer, before frowning. "You're planning on attacking Sweetwater?" He asked. That could be a problem, he thinks. Sweetwater is a neighbouring Kingdom and their forces could rival their own. 

"They won't accept any offers of allyship." FP admits, massaging his temples. "I can only imagine that they're planning something big due to their multiple refusals. If we can get an attack in early, it may-"

"Antagonise things?" Jughead shakes his head, examining the board. "There's got to be something they want, dad. I just have to figure it out." 

FP stares at his son, pride written onto every line in his face, and Jughead blushes a little. "Alright," he nods "go on then, figure it out. But Jughead- if you don't know within the week, I'm going to give the order for the General to move his troops over the boundary. Okay?" 

Jughead frowns, but nods seriously. "Okay, dad." 

 

It takes him four days, before he's walking into his father's bedchambers. 

There are two chamber attendants helping his dad dress into his dinner robes, as his dad stands there, letting them make their adjustments. The King frowns at his son as he walks in. "Jughead," he warns, as the attendants continue their work "why aren't you dressed? The royal banquet's starting in half an hour." 

"I know what they want, dad," Jughead insists, ignoring his father. He's currently still in his lounging clothes, a rather beaten woollen shirt and dark trousers. He could be mistaken for the son of a Knight, not the son of the King. He waves the piece of paper in his hand triumphantly. "They want a marriage alliance." 

FP frowns, taking the paper and scanning it curiously. "Really? Queen McCoy never struck me as the type to-"

"Not the Queen, dad," Jughead begins, raking his hands through his hair as he begins pacing. "The Queen will never marry again, she's made that clear on numerous occasions. What they want is for a member of the royal family of Riverdale, to marry a member of their Kingdom. Someone who resides in Sweetwater. It'll show a true acceptance for their Kingdom and then we'll be allies." He beams, and his father nods, smiling a little. 

"Alright then. Okay good, I'll send word that I'll marry-"

"No, dad," Jughead whispers, eyes wide. He gestures for one of the attendants to step aside and she does so obediently, as he goes towards his father. " _I_ will. It'll prove to the Kingdom that I can hold my own and make good decisions, and that'll reflect well on you. But it'll also mean that the alliance is stronger. It's the newer generation, it'll last longer in case no child is born."

FP places a hand onto his son's shoulder, examining him closely, before nodding. "Alright then, but marriage is not to be entered into lightly-"

"I know, dad,"

"-We'll arrange a ball. I'll send word to Sweetwater, to send over every eligible woman they have." He calls for a squire to come in, and they race into the room, pen and paper ready. "I want every princess, every Knight's daughter, every nobleman's daughter, every eligible woman, to come for a ball here at the palace next month, if they would like to wed Prince Forsythe to result in an alliance between their Kingdom and ours. Okay? Send word." The squire runs out, and FP gives his son a proud look.

Jughead smiles. 

 

A month later, as he's being forced into shiny silk garments, he regrets his decision. 

FP, who's resting against the wall and watching as his son is manhandled into the royal attire he never usually wears, smiles. "We all gotta look the part sometimes, Jughead," he teases, and Jughead mock glares at him as the attendants- and he's got four working on him- wipe his neck with rose smelling cloths, and others trap his feet in complex looking boots with more laces than he can count. "You'll have to wear your crown too-"

"What?" he whines "Why?"

FP shakes his head fondly. "Tradition, Jughead." He reminds dutifully and Jughead rolls his eyes, shifting restlessly. 

FP admires his son though, he looks good, if a little uncomfortable in the royal attire. He's in a navy blue tunic jacket with a half-high collar that shows off his throat. He's got real gold buttons and epaulette, with dark trousers and dark boots that glisten. There's even a sword, with a silver bejewelled hilt showing, with the blade tucked into his sheath on his side. His son has never used a sword in real combat, only in the training he underwent as a younger boy with guards who would never dared have hurt him. 

But FP doesn't worry about his son's resilience, he knows his son has the brains to keep him going. 

The crown is placed onto him last, and FP can feel his heart swell with pride. It's a thin piece of elegant silver, that sits just above his son's ears. It has the Kingdom's finest jewels placed into its hilt, smaller pieces than in the King's gold crown, but beautiful nonetheless. As the attendants file out, and Jughead examines himself in the mirror, moving his hair so it flops under the crown into his forehead, not slicked back as neatly, till he feels more comfortable. FP touches his shoulder. 

"There are going to be a lot of women there tonight, Jug," he says softly, because his son has never shown any interest in a woman before. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," 

Jughead smiles, but shakes his head. "I'm alright. And truth be told? I'm kind of excited. Worst that could happen is I marry someone I hate, but it's a big Kingdom and an even bigger palace, I'll never even have to see them." 

FP laughs, and pulls his son in for a hug. Jughead buries his head into the soft fur of his dad's cloak, feeling brave.

 

When they get to the hall, the trumpet blows as they're announced.

Jughead stares in awed dismay as he sees the hundreds of women in the great hall below. They're all in stunning ballgowns, some accompanied by their mothers and fathers, some by merely ladies in waiting. "Sweetwater Kingdom has this many eligible women?" He whispers, standing beside his father at the head of the steps, as everyone looks up at them, bowing and curtseying. He swallows thickly. "This is slightly more daunting then I had previously believed." He manages, without looking away from the crowd. 

"You'll be alright," his father whispers in reply, patting his back. 

As the trumpet finishes its flourish, the two of them walk down the grand, marble steps together. Upon reaching the bottom, the music starts up again, the orchestra in the corner crooning on their violins. "Good luck," FP manages, and Jughead steps into the abyss. 

There are women everywhere, all equally beautiful. He feels out of his depth. Their dresses shimmer and shine, and their hair is embedded with diamonds and beauty. He knows that Queen McCoy has three daughters, but he only knows Josie by name, from when they were playmates long ago, and he spots her, with ebony skin and a stunning tiara. He knows that it'll probably be best if he's married to the princess of the neighbouring Kingdom, so he manages to sneak through the many women until he finds her. 

He bows when she sees him, remembering his etiquette, and she courtesies. She's beautiful, he thinks distantly, though not his type. He wonders if he even has a type. "Princess Josie," he murmurs, offering his arm. "Would you care to dance?" 

She smiles, and takes his arm, as they spin onto the dance floor. "It's clever, what you've done, you know," she murmurs, following his lead. "And when I'm Queen, I'll be much more open to working together than my mother is now. I can recognise what an asset you are. She's still too stuck on the past."

"Right," Jughead nods, a little clueless. "Suggesting that we're not..."

She chuckles, shaking her head as he spins her under his arm. "No, I'm afraid not. My sisters and I think you're charming, that's for sure, and definitely smart and definitely an ally we want, but we're not going to marry you. Does that sound fair?" 

Jughead nods, a smile playing on his lips. "Definitely fair. It was lovely to meet you anyway," 

She smiles, and he decides he rather likes her a lot. He regrets not having spent more time with her earlier. 

They part ways when the song ends, and before he can even look around the hall, a stunning redhead is in his arms, leading him back towards the dance floor, where he's forced to follow  _her_ lead. 

"Nice to meet you, Prince Forsythe. I'm Lady Cheryl Blossom." She lifts her head proudly as she pulls him around the dance floor, faster than the strings of the music. "I thought I would do you the favour of introducing myself, so you wouldn't have to sift through all the riffraff." 

Jughead stares at her, she's got the reddest hair he's ever seen, and lips to match. Her eyes sparkle and she looks like someone he could never ever lose against. Her dress is scarlet and unlike a lot of other people's- figure hugging. Her heels make her slightly taller than him, and he blinks in amazement that she's so graceful on them. "Lady Cheryl," he nods, swallowing "I've never seen a woman such a warrior in heels." 

She smirks at him, tossing her head so her hair flicks over her shoulder. "That's true. I am a warrioress if there ever was one." 

"I don't doubt it." He murmurs, swallowing as she presses up against him. "A-and as stunning and slightly scary as you are, I'm not sure that-"

She cocks her head, nodding and pulling back. "Save it," she quips happily "you've impressed me, but you're right. I'm not sure we're going to match." She stops the dance in the middle of the song, and a few of the dancing couples beside them watch. Jughead realises then that they're being watched by everyone in the crowd as well, and his father too- who's sitting in his throne. He meets his dad's eyes but his dad is focused solely on Cheryl. Jughead frowns.

"Why does everyone seem so invested in you?" He murmurs, ducking his head in what probably looks like a very intimate movement. 

Cheryl beams, rolling her eyes. "People are so afraid. Just because my daddy- Lord of the Military, once vowed to slaughter any man who wasn't good enough for me. It was a curse, wicked witches etcetera." 

Jughead stares at her, eyes wide. 

Cheryl laughs, and kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red imprint there. "It was nice to meet you, Prince Forsythe, and I appreciate that you can clearly appreciate my many talents. Maybe you should write to me in the future, if you ever need a cut throat warrioress at your side." 

Jughead nods eagerly "you would strike heart into the most gruesome enemies." 

Cheryl beams; pleased, before whirling on her huge heels and disappearing into the crowd.

Jughead makes his way over to his father, who's beckoning him with a small hand gesture. A squire passes him a handkerchief, and Jughead wipes the lipstick from his cheek, passing the handkerchief back and reaches his King. "Dad," he murmurs, but his dad looks worried still. 

"What did Blossom want?" His dad begins protectively, "What did she say? You haven't chosen her, have you Jug? I didn't even think she'd be here-"

"Relax, dad," Jughead smiles "she was...good. I like her. I think she likes me, but we both agreed that we're probably better as a fear-igniting war tactics team. Besides, I'm kinda very scared of her." 

His dad huffs a laugh "I don't think I've ever met a man who wasn't." But then his dad's attention is on a figure behind him, and Jughead turns to see a raven-haired beauty in a dark purple dress. She doesn't courtesy, neither does he bow, but they do tip their heads in respect. "Sorry to interrupt, King Forsythe, and Prince Forsythe, but I just wanted to introduce myself before I left." 

"Leaving so soon?" FP asks curiously, leaning back in his velvet throne, and the raven-haired girl nods. 

"Yes, my father is...protective, he wants me home before eleven pm,"

"The time's gone fast," Jughead murmurs, but nods. "Of course, let's dance, Miss..."

"Lady Veronica," she smiles, taking his arm, and turning to the King. "My father is Queen McCoy's Lord of the Realm. Overseeing the interests of the people."

FP doesn't seem impressed, he just picks up the goblet when his attendant offers it. "Your Queen has a lot of Lords. We don't keep them in my kingdom. We have Generals." 

"Lords lead to pretensions." Jughead agrees, watching Lady Veronica warily, but she simply smiles. 

"Different ways of ruling," she agrees, and motions for the dance floor. "It was an honour to meet you, King Forsythe," she calls goodbye, as her and Jughead make their way onto the floor. Jughead takes her in, she's got thin lips, and smoky eyes, and her hair is perfectly styled. 

"That was tense," he murmurs, as she takes his hand, and rests the other on his shoulder. He places his on her waist, and they begin to waltz. "Why was that so tense?" 

"There is some history between our father's but fair warning...We lodges have a way of making thing tense," Veronica admits with a sigh "It's not our objective, I can promise you that." 

"I take it you're not very interested in forming an alliance?" Jughead asks "or at least your father isn't- if you're leaving so early." 

"I already have my eye on a red-haired Knight, I'm afraid," Veronica admits, and Jughead smiles at the love-struck note in her voice. "I came to try and form a good relationship with you. I don't think your father likes me very much, though." 

"He'll like you more once I talk to him," Jughead promises, and Veronica smiles up hopefully at him. "You're not the first one here to not be particularly impressed by me. I've to find a wife yet."

"The night is young," Veronica laughs "and I spoke to Cheryl and Josie, don't think they weren't impressed. Josie practically admitted to wanting to be your ally in the future regardless of a marriage being planned tonight, and Cheryl offered you her services in war negotiations. I've never heard of a Prince who's had offers like that. You must have really wowed them." 

Jughead ducks his head bashfully at that. "And have I wowed you, Lady Veronica?"

"You have. In fact, I think you should meet my Knight one of these days, not only would it further strengthen your ties between Kingdoms, but I think the two of you would get along rather well." She looks at him thoughtfully "really rather well, in fact." 

Jughead twists his lips wryly "I don't have many friends."

"Just wait till the end of the night," Veronica laughs "you'll have thousands." 

Jughead feels a pang as Veronica leaves, a small feeling of kinship associated with her, and he turns to see the many, many other ladies clustered in groups around him. None approach him, and so he figures he's reached the end of the blunter ladies, which is a shame. He examines a few of them, immediately crossing out people with more jewels on their dresses than he deems appropriate. Though it may not be true, he associates it with greed. 

It's upon examining dresses, that his eyes catch on a ballgown. 

A  _black_ ballgown.

The only black ballgown he's ever seen. 

He moves towards the woman, who has her back to him, and he can see tan arms and long, magenta hair that falls down her back in curls. She's talking to a small group of women, all of whom are wearing dresses of a slightly lower quality than some of the others. Presumably slightly lower in rank, though still rich and beautiful. 

He clears his throat, and she turns, everyone in the group looking at him with wide eyes. "Excuse me," he does his best to smile charmingly, and she's got large eyes and a small nose, and she is stunning. "would you like to dance?' 

The girl is staring at him like he's mad, but she takes his arm jerkily. The other people in her group are whispering jealous encouragements, as he takes her into his arms. She's very small, and delicate, like a bird. "This is...super weird," she manages, and Jughead laughs. It's the first, non-proper introduction he's had all evening. She seems relieved at his laugh, easing into his arms. "I'm Toni Topaz, and I'm literally just the bastard daughter of a Knight. I have basically no rank, I just live in the palace as a favour." 

Jughead looks down at her, surprised but not repelled. "I"m Jughead Jones, the son of the King. I basically live in the palace as a favour too, I'm sure there are numerous times when my dad want's to chuck me right out." Toni grins impishly, and Jughead barrels on. "I was mistaken for the cook's son the other week," he admits and she laughs so loudly she has to raise a hand to cover her mouth.

FP notices, leaning forward in his throne and examining the couple over the dancing, drinking and music. 

"No you didn't!" She gasps, and Jughead nods seriously. 

"I certainly did. I didn't really have the heart to correct her either, so I ended up helping make a rather terrible cake for dinner." As they talk and dance, he considers her. Toni is nice, Jughead thinks. Better than he thought he'd find here. She's...scrappy, he decides. She's beautiful also. Jughead thinks they'd look nice together, walking down a grand staircase. She's easy to talk to, and they have very similar interests. "I can't believe you've been watching Seaside as well, I feel the King there could be in some trouble. He essentially let the rebels in himself."

"Exactly! There's a sad sense of poetic irony there." Toni nods empathetically, and Jughead vaguely realises that they've been dancing for three turns now. 

He glances around the hall, and sees Toni's friends essentially cheering her on. He laughs. "Your friends seem absolutely delighted that you're the favourite of the night." 

Toni blushes a little, though it's hard to see against her skin tone. "I'm the favourite?" She asks, and Jughead blushes too, then, laughing awkwardly. "Well, you should see your dad. I think he might leap out of that throne any minute now." 

Jughead glances over, and can see his dad practically interrogating one of Toni's friends. He rolls his eyes. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private," he murmurs, and begins to guide her towards the large, white doors that lead out onto the private gardens. There's a collective little gasp from the surrounding eaves droppers and Toni looks up at Jughead in a sort of awe. 

"Really?" She asks uncertainly "With  _me?_ Are you sure you wanna do this? I'm just-"

"You're just nothing," Jughead interrupts swiftly "what you are, is the most beautiful and interesting woman I've met tonight." 

She nods, shyly, and they head away from the crowds. The attendants preempt the Prince's request, and open the large doors. The cool night breeze rolls in and Toni shivers. Jughead frowns. 

"Do you have a coat?" He asks, and she nods. "I'll fetch it. You go wait by the pond," he leans down to brush their cheeks together. A mark of intention, and he can see his dad smile at the action. Toni nods, and follows one of the attendants out, as Jughead bypasses the crowd and eases out of the hall.

It's amazingly cold outside of the sweltering heat that the crowd gives off, and this part of the palace is mostly dark, lit only by sparse candles, and his footsteps echo along the marble flooring as he heads towards the guest coat room. He's happy, he decides, Toni seems delightful and could definitely fulfil him. But as he walks along an empty corridor, he hears a gasp and the clang of something dropping to the floor.

Jughead turns, frowning. He peers down the hallway, but the candlelight is sparse, and there are plenty of shadows.

"Who goes there?" He asks in a low voice, before taking a breath and gentling it. "I'm assuming you're just a guest of the ball, and you dropped something. This isn't something you will be punished for." 

There's silence for a moment, and Jughead thinks that the culprit has probably rushed back to the ball. It was probably an overzealous woman hoping for a moment alone- when out of the shadows steps a figure.

Jughead swallows thickly.

She's beautiful. 

Her hair is tied with ribbon behind her face, and she's in a plain, pale pink gown. She's got cream skin and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. "I-I'm sorry," she manages, fumbling her way through a courtesy. Her face is beginning to burn a furious red. "Prince Forsythe, I'm sorry I was just..." she trails off, wringing her hands together, and Jughead sees the silver comb lying by her feet. 

She's a lady in waiting.

And the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life. 

"Exploring?" He guesses, taking a step towards her. "I used to do a lot of that growing up. It's a big palace," he takes another step towards her, and bends down, picking up the comb using the tips of his fingers. He holds it up for her, and she takes it hurriedly, not meeting his eyes. "You know my name..." he begins, eyebrows raised "though you can call me Jughead," he waits a moment, and then softer; "if you like."

She meets his eyes then, and her pupils are dilated. She smiles, and her lips are pinker than her dress, and she has long eyelashes that curl ever so slightly. "Jughead," she whispers, "I'm Elizabeth Cooper."

"Elizabeth," he notes, pressing his lips together on a smile. "Very formal." 

"It's not uh-" she pushes the comb into one of her pockets, and that's when Jughead realises it's not a ballgowns. Ballgowns don't have pockets, she must have made this herself. Makes sense, he thinks, ladies in waiting often have access to forgotten material. "Nobody actually calls me that- I'm Betty, your highness." 

He nods, and the candlelight flickers across her face. "Betty, then," he smiles "were you...looking for something? Or just generally exploring?" 

She looks around, as if waiting for guards to come and get her. But upon seeing none, and only his friendly and encouraging smile, her shoulders sag. "I was look for the library," she admitted guiltily. "I've heard it's the best in the west and that it's  _yours,_ and I thought if you were at the ball, then-"

"The library would be unguarded." Jughead finishes with a smile, licking his lips. "You're right. I can take you there, if you like. It is very impressive, if I don't say so myself." He turns and begins walking down the hallway. Upon realising she's not beside him, he stops, and looks back at her. She's just staring at him, and then seems to realise herself, and rushes to join him. He offers her his arm, which she takes with trembling fingers. Jughead thinks it's endearing. "Who is your lady?" He asks gently, and she swallows. 

"Lady Veronica Lodge,"

"I met her this evening at the ball," Jughead nods, the raven-haired girl with the red-haired knight, and now the golden-haired attendant. "She seems to think I'd make excellent friends with her future husband." Betty doesn't say anything, and Jughead sighs and smiles. "You have the ability to speak at will, you know, Betty. I figure someone with the nerve to sneak around a castle looking for books has the nerve not to hold her tongue. Besides..." he gives her a knowing, side glance "you don't strike me as the silent type." 

Betty laughs then, a musical sound that bubbles up out of her throat. She raises a hand to cover her mouth in horror, and Jughead nudges her gently. "Okay," she says quietly, as if trying to find the words. "Sorry, I just...I know a lot about you, that's all." Jughead lifts his eyebrows, silently asking for more. "There are a few legends about you, Pri-  _Jughead._ There are prophecies that say that you will right the wrongs of the land in your reign." 

"You believe in prophecies and legends?" 

"There haven't been any that have been wrong yet," she reminds, and Jughead shrugs a little. "Does it make you nervous?" She asks, hitting the nail on the head. "Having that sort of prophecy hanging over you?" Jughead doesn't say anything, biting his lip, so she barrels on. "It would if it were me. I'd be worrying about trying to make sure it came true, but you don't have to- it's a prophecy. Whether you tried or not, it would happen." 

Jughead breathes out through his nose. "My dad's been fretting about it his whole life. Trying to make sure I have access to everything I could ever need to be this cleverer, smarter King. He keeps thinking that he has to set everything up for me- I hate that he thinks he's not good enough." 

Betty blinks, surprised, before nodding. "I never thought about how it would effect the people around you." She agrees, before nudging him back a little bit. "At least you didn't get the curse that Lady Cheryl has on her- about her dad." 

"That he'll end up killing the man she falls in love with?" Jughead nods, "my dad tried to warn me about her."

"I have a theory about that, though," Betty said, a mischievous smile on her lips. Jughead grinned, and they rounded the corner down another dimly lit, red carpeted hallway. "Well, I think that Cheryl's father  _already has_ killed the only man Cheryl loved- her brother. It's been formally stated that he died during combat, but I think her father played an underhanded role. And I also think that Cheryl's not going to end up with a man, but with a woman." 

That...is genius. 

Cheryl strikes him as someone so fierce that only another woman would be able to handle it. 

Someone tough, maybe even a little scrappy. 

"You have a lot of theories, I'm guessing," Jughead nods, pleased. "You're a bit of a prophet analyser. You could get a job in the temples, they're always looking for sorts like you. It's a very noble profession. Incredibly respected and revered and-"

"-Celibate." 

Jughead laughs at her bluntness, and she holds his arm a bit tighter, not as nervous as before. "Yes, that's true, I guess. Celibacy isn't for everyone." It's refreshing, he thinks, to have found a woman so blunt in her desires. It's appealing a sensibility he didn't know he had. "You are my newest enigma, Betty Cooper," he decides, and he slows down as they approach the door to the library. 

Betty rocks on her heels, excited. So Jughead doesn't waste any more time, and he pushes open the door. 

She rushes in, gasping in amazement, and it is a bit of a spectacle. 

High ceilings, and the walls are entirely lined, all the way to the domed top with books. Some ancient, some new, all bound in the finest leathery hides and dyed in purest flowery colours, embalmed with gold scripted littering. There's a roaring fireplace and two, highly backed red velvet chairs, a bear skin rug- of the largest bear ever caught in Riverdale, on the floor, and silk cushions. The bronze ladder is positioned in the sciences section, from where Jughead was last exploring. 

Betty twirls, eyes up on the stained glass dome, it currently depicts Jughead's grand father bestowing the crown onto his dad, bodies strewn around them from the last Great Battle. There's a wide smile on her face, and Jughead admires it, winded. She's truly beautiful, without a drop of diamond on her, because they're in her eyes. No gold or silk, because it's imbued into her hair. She races to the ladder, a new springy energy within her, nerves and anxiety gone by the sight of the literature. She scales it quickly, right to where there are a few books missing. "You've been reading the sciences?" She calls down to him, and he walks over to her, holding the base of the ladder. "New ones? Do you believe what they're saying about healing-"

"How about the history section?" Jughead interrupts teasingly, pushing the ladder and wheeling her to a different section and she squeals in delight, leaning back and holding on with one hand, letting the created wind whip through her hair. 

"Ooh Chaucer!"

He pushes her further, "the battle section!"

"Are these titles from the east?!" She exclaims, excitement and enthusiasm loud in her voice. And so on until they're both dizzy, and she climbs down, before settling on the lower steps, so her feet perch on the bottom one, and she lies against the rest in faux-exhaustion. "This is the best library ever," she breathes, and Jughead grins. He feels younger than he has in a long time. "Are you the only one who uses it? Is it open to the Kingdom?" 

"Open to the Kingdom?" Jughead rears up, interested. "Are there Kingdoms that actually do that? Give the public access to their libraries?"

"Yeah, not many, but a few," Betty assures. "If I was a subject here, I don't think I'd ever leave." 

"Well, hopefully after Sweetwater and Riverdale are allied, you can come as often as you like." He waves his hand, gesturing to the huge library. "What's mine is yours, Betty Cooper," before he collapses onto the bear skin rug on the floor. She laughs down at him, and he tucks his hands under his head; amused. "I'm sure there's a prophecy about you somewhere, you have the disposition to change a world."

Betty scoffs, tightening her ribbon. "I think not. I've studied prophecies  _extensively_ and there's nothing about a handmaiden changing the world." 

Jughead sits up, drawing a knee to his chest. "You've studied them extensively?" He asks, and she nods; eyes curious. "I've never actually...it's prohibited for me to the read the legend myself, and no one will tell me exactly what it says. My dad's afraid it'll change me, but actually knowing or not knowing couldn't stop it from happening. You've read mine? In detail? Studied it?" 

Betty nods, smiling. "I could tell you, if you like. How about it? A glimpse into your future, Prince Forsythe the third?" 

Jughead pulls his other knee up and loops his arms around them. "Go on, Miss Cooper, I'm intrigued." 

She draws in a huge breath as though she's about to give a long speech, and then lets it out in a laugh that makes Jughead grin just by watching her. "Okay, so, forgive me, as I've read hundreds, but yours is a very good one. After assuming the throne, you're going to free- well, the text isn't clear, but is says "free the accused", so maybe prisoners? Maybe exiles? Essentially you free them, and they're going to repay you, and that in turn is going to change the very structure of your Kingdom. You're going to increase it's power tenfold simply through the act of forgiveness," Betty smiles wildly "isn't that incredible?" 

Jughead looks up at her, awed. "Free the accursed," he repeats, nodding. "That suddenly sounds incredibly do-able. Not as impossible as I'd always thought." 

Betty becomes a little sober, flickering her eyes away from him. "You're uh- you married for alliance, so, you've already began fulfilling that prophecy." 

Jughead looks at her. "Does it say what my wife will be like?" 

"A few lines. Apparently she's the fairest maiden in all the lands, but also a warrior." Betty begins, and Jughead listens; enraptured. "She'll be purer than a lily but sharper than a thorn. And she'll make the Kingdom happy." Betty clasped her hands together. "So, you are a very, very, lucky and talented man, Jughead." 

Jughead nods, smiling. 

Betty arches an eyebrow. "Did you...did you meet someone like that tonight?" 

"I did." Jughead whispered. "Matches the description perfectly. I'm amazed. I've been wholly converted to prophecies." 

Betty cocks her head, curious. "Was it Cheryl? I always assumed Lady Cheryl due to the warrior section- but that clashes with my belief that she'll eventually wed a woman. But she  _is_ sharper than a thorn, her family manor is even called Thornhill." 

Jughead went to swipe his hand through his hair, but hit his crown by mistake. He righted it carefully, fiddling with his buttons instead. "You've done an awful lot of research into my legends. Do you offer this amount of dedication to all of them?" Betty blushed, but doesn't say anything. "So not Cheryl, who else could it be?" 

"Well, obviously I thought of my own mistress, Lady Veronica, but she's so in love with Sir Archibald. Perhaps Princess Josie, did you meet the princess tonight?" 

"I did," Jughead manages, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Betty's expression falls, and she nods a little tightly. "Yeah, she...she's beautiful, and though I've never seen her fight, I'm sure she could do it. She's extremely pure, she grew up in the nunnery beside the castle- my sister lives there now, but I've seen her go against Lady Cheryl in a battle of wits, so she is sharp. And she has the voice of an angel, anyone listening- she makes them happy. That could be how she makes the Kingdom happy." 

"Interesting," Jughead nods. He squints a little, looking at her. "Have you heard of Toni? She wore a black dress." 

"Toni Topaz?" Betty raises her eyebrows, nodding. "Yeah, she- well," her eyes are wide "did you..."

"I invited her to the gardens with me," Jughead nods, picking imaginary lint off his trousers. Betty gasps a little. "Rank means absolutely nothing to me."

"Nothing?" She asks, gaze hopeful. 

"Nothing at all." 

She smiles, ducking her head shyly, before clearing her throat. "Well, Miss Topaz clearly matches them too. She's beautiful, but a fighter. Pure, but witty, and I'm sure she'll make you very happy, Prince Forsythe." She stood, smoothing down her dress. "I should- probably go back."

"Lady Veronica left a little while ago," he replies quickly, trying to stop her.

"I know, but I'm allowed to stay out, as Lady Veronica is away tomorrow."

"So you were going to  _walk_ back?" Jughead asked incredulously, standing up. Betty shook her head, smiling. 

"I was going to ride, the carriage left one of the horses in your stables for me." 

"Well, I'll escort you." He decides, and Betty stares at him: flummoxed. "No objections," Jughead warns "I'm not letting you just ride back to another Kingdom at  _night_ and alone. Besides, the fresh air, it'll be good for me." He grins at her, and Betty nods. They walk back down the corridors together, and into the main hall. A few people stare outright, but most of them try to be more discreet. FP comes right up to them, nodding at Betty before turning to his son.

"You left Toni out there alone, Jug," FP whispers quietly, whilst Betty pretends not to listen. "It was not the gentlemanly thing to do." 

Jughead nods, sighing. "I can make it up to her tomorrow, dad. But this is Betty," he presents her. "Elizabeth Cooper, the lady in waiting to Lady Veronica. I'm going to escort her home." He stares at his dad with meaning, and his dad nods slowly in understanding, dragging his eyes away from his son and turning to Betty with a much more friendly smile. 

"Miss Cooper," he smiles "my son's always had unusual taste, but I'm glad to see that even I can recognise your beauty," he reaches for her hand and kisses it, whilst Betty watches; confused. He claps his son's neck, squeezing a little. "Be safe son, and well done for tonight. You handled yourself better than I expected, not counting the mishap with Toni,"

"Thanks dad," Jughead smiled "and I'll sort it out with Toni, I promise."

"I don't doubt you will." 

Jughead smiled, before turning to Betty. "Would you like to go with-" Jughead gestured to a guard who was by the door. He was tall and imposing and stepped forward without a word. "-Sweet Pea? He'll help you get the horses ready, and I'll be out in a moment." Betty nodded, still a little confused, following Sweet Pea, as Jughead went out into the gardens. 

Across the strung lavender and ivy he spotted Toni by the fountain. HIs heart banged. He didn't how long it had been since he left her- he had no idea how long he'd been in the library with Betty and he hoped she forgave him. He walked towards her before spotting Lady Cheryl appear from behind a fuchsia line wound around a bonsai. They were standing close together, smiling. Jughead stared uncomprehending for a second, before nodding to himself. Scrappy, of course. Betty was a genius. He turned to leave, before catching Toni's eye over Cheryl's shoulder.

She smiled a little, sadness in the corners, but hope in her eyes. 

Jughead nodded, winking, and Toni smiled, leaning into Cheryl's embrace. 

The pink and red looked good together, Jughead thought to himself dimly, as an attendant fastened a cloak over his shoulders. But he thinks he and Betty will look striking beside each other. They can spend their evenings in the library, and he imagines she'll play chess to an extraordinary level. As he's escorted outside, he sees her already mounted on her black horse, his own white steed ready and waiting.

"You don't ride side saddle," he observes, pleased. It's unusual, for a woman, but Betty just scoffs. 

"Please, that's so inefficient." And she kicks the sides of her feet, tugging on the reign, and her horse trots forward. Jughead hurries to straddle his own horse, and he races after her. He laughs, openly as they race, even though he has to readjust his crown a few times due to the speed they're going. Betty would look beautiful, he thinks, coming down the grand staircase with him. Sitting in a throne beside him. It's a dark night, but the moon is shining with the stars and there isn't a cloud in the sky. 

Jughead is normally escorted by guards when he rides near the borders, it's common practise for heirs, and so he's sure if he listens hard enough, he'll be able to hear a few other horses a few miles back, keeping him safe. He wants to roll his eyes at the grandeur, but he knows his dad probably sent them after him. He's a little overprotective, and Jughead finds he likes it.

"So, how are you gonna make it up to Toni?" Betty asks, after they've slowed from galloping to a gentler pace. The grass here, considering they've taken the non-paved route, is up to the horse's body, and Jughead's boots drag along it in a sensation similar to swimming. It's mostly forestry on this part, but they've entered a clearing where the moonlight is unobstructed.

Jughead smiles, toying with her. "I don't know. How would you recommend?" 

Betty doesn't look at him, reaching down to sweep a dandelion out of the tall grass. She tucks it behind her horse's ear and he whinnies happily, stopping a moment to champ at the ferny floor. "I don't know," she whispers into the night "I'm sure if you just explained that you were showing some helpless booklover your library, she'd probably think you were very gentlemanly." 

"I do need to prove that," Jughead nods, watching her "leaving her out in the garden like that was unacceptable. But to be honest, I completely forgot she existed." 

Betty sneaks a look up at him then, and her eyes are vibrant blue. 

"I was distracted, you see," Jughead continues, and he swings a leg over, and dismounts his horse. The grass tickles at his chest, and he walks through it slowly, wary of rocks he won't be able to see. He goes over to Betty's black horse, and pats it gently. "Meeting you. I forgot everyone else at the ball even existed. Proper etiquette went through the window." Betty looks down at him, a small smile ghosting on her lips. "Have you figured it out yet?" She frowns, shaking her head.

"Figured out what?" 

"The answer to the prophecy?"

"I already did- it's Toni-"

"I marry for alliance," Jughead begins, grasping the front edge of the saddle in his hand as he leans against her horse. "So it has to be someone from Sweetwater. She'll be...what was it? The most beautiful maiden in the land?" His eyes flicker over her face and he nods "I think so. But also a warrior? I have no doubt." Betty's frowning at him as if he's crazy. "She'll be purer than a lily." He quotes, "lily's for chastity, that much I've always known. But sharper than a thorn? I can think of only a few people who could challenge Cheryl Blossom, but I think my future wife definitely could. " Betty reaches down to touch the head of her saddle, near where his fingers are. "I also think she'll make everyone she meets happy." 

"Like I said," Betty sighs "you're very lucky." 

"I really am." He says, looking up at her, until she blushes and looks away. Jughead huffs a fond laugh, shaking his head in wonder. "You're smarter than that, Betty Cooper. The prophecy is talking about  _you."_ The look on her face makes Jughead laugh loudly, and unable to help himself, he hauls himself up, balancing one leg on the stirrups, and holding his weight with his hands on the saddle, until their faces are very close together. 

"I'm not- it can't be-"

"It is." Jughead whispers, his breath fanning over her face. They're only millimetres apart now, and he can smell her. She smells like strawberries and fuchsias. "I know this isn't proper, and my guards are probably hiding behind those trees, but can I..."

Betty's looking at him, still reeling with shock, and she nods, a pleased smile crossing her face, as she leans into him.

It's a chaste, sweet press of their lips, but its enough to set Jughead's skin afire. 

"I'm the prophecy?" Betty whispers, laughing quietly, as if she's afraid it'll come untrue. 

"You're the prophecy." Jughead nods. "So I suppose the question is...will you marry me?" 

She takes him in, balancing on the single stirrup, one foot hanging. His crown lopsided on his head, and long strands of hair not slicked back like they should be, but rebelliously shining into his eyes. His attire should indicate how different they are- how  _royal_ he is. But...it doesn't. He's looking at her as if she's more precious than the jewels on his head, like she's worth more than the stars that are reflecting from the sky into his eyes. 

"Yes," she answers, unable to keep the smile off her face. "Yes, I will." 

 

"Oh my gosh, is that  _another_ gift?" Veronica exclaims, rushing in and Betty looks over her shoulder, nodding, cheeks flushed and lips spread wide in a grin. Veronica rushes to join her, and they both look at the fur cloak on the bed. "Wow," Veronica whispers, reaching forward to run her fingers through it. "It's so  _white."_

Betty covers her mouth with her hand in awe "It's polar bear fur, Veronica," she laughs "he's sent me polar bear fur."

"That's the rarest bear in in the west. Even I don't have polar bear fur." Veronica wraps her arm around Betty. "This is incredible.You're going to be a Princess, Betty."

"It's so much," the blonde laughs, and they both turn to the pile of gifts that's been filling up Betty's bed quarters. She was moved to a larger one than she had before due to her betrothal, but it still isn't big enough to house the enormity of the gifts. There are over twenty gowns, all hand made and designed with jewels. There are lace veils and gold jewellery, silver earrings and some of the oldest books she's ever seen. They're her favourites, the books he sent her. "I miss him," she manages, eyes watering at the large array and variety of more beauty and wealth than she's ever seen. 

Veronica squeezes her tight. "I miss Archie too, but we have each other and they have each other. Besides, voyaging into the eastern Kingdoms is meant to be one of the most enriching endeavours. Maybe one day we'll get to go on one," 

Betty would love that. She wonders what that heat would feel like, that humidity. How it would feel to experience it in reality. Jughead's letters, the long, beautiful letters he sends her, create such a beautiful image, and he's promised her that he'll take her, he's promised to show her the entire world if she wants it. "He'll definitely take us," she says to Veronica. And they've become much more like friends rather than servant/mistress like before due to Betty's rank rise. Even though Veronica was always nice to her, there was a slight barrier, but now that that's gone, and Betty feels so close to her, it's almost scary. 

"I have no doubt. The four of us on a voyage is something I very much look forward to. Maybe we can even get Cheryl and Toni to come along. But for now, B, come with me, because I did come in here for a reason." 

Betty arches a curious eyebrow, but Veronica mimes sealing her lip, before dragging her friend out of the room and through the Sweetwater manor, beside the palace, where most of the ladies and lords live. They skip down the halls together, till they reach the reception room, and Betty frowns hard when Veronica pushes her towards a brown package on the wooden table. "What's this?"

"What to you think?" Veronica teases, leaning against the door and crossing her arms. "Another gift from a very, very smitten prince." 

"Another one?" Betty gasps "but I just got the gown this morning-"

"What can I say, Betty? He's really in love," the raven-haired girl beams. "And this one came with special instructions for you to open separately. It's a different type of gift, it was explained in a lot of detail in my dearest Archie's letter to me. So go on, you're lucky I didn't sneak a peak before you woke up." 

Betty laughs, picking it up. It's wrapped in soft brown paper, and tied with coarse string into a bow. Her name is written in Jughead's neat cursive across the front, and she bites her bottom lip. "He's spoiling me," she whispers, but she's not complaining, there's a tint of pure joy in her voice, as she slides her fingers under the bow and pulls it loose.  Veronica watches eagerly from the door so Betty twists a little so she can see better and then pulls the paper off. 

She nearly drops it when she sees what it is, she shakes so hard, and Veronica pushes off the door and walks towards her, curiosity giving way. 

"What is it?" She asks, watching as Betty handles it like a treasure. It's a large, thick book, which seems very heavy with a thick brown cover. It doesn't have the gold lettering of most books, and the pages are yellowed leaf. 

"It's an eastern book of prophecies," Betty whispers in awe "from Jerusalem, it's...I've wanted this since I was a child. There's only five in existence, this must have cost-"

"Wow," Veronica shakes her head in wonder. "He loves you, girl." 

Betty blinks back tears of joy, cradling the book to her chest, before rushing back to her room to begin crafting a letter for Jughead. 

 

Jughead's due back from his voyage a few months later, and Betty's been escorted from the manor to Riverdale palace. She hasn't been here since the ball, and as she's pulled in a white carriage- an intensely beautiful white carriage, all of the people she sees in the town try to catch a glimpse at her, and whoop or cheer when they spot her through the carriage windows. She peeks her head out more and more, and admires the Kingdom. It's different from Sweetwater, where Sweetwater is lovely, tall structures and clear stone barriers, Riverdale has none. All the buildings seem to merge into one another, and all the gardens and greenery appear shared.

A little girl sees her and squeals, tugging on her mother's dress and pointing. Betty waves happily, laughing to herself, and the driver turns back to look at her. He smiles, and Betty recognises him as Sweet Pea, the guard who escorted her to the stables. 

"They all love you here," Sweet Pea calls back to her, the first non-formal words he's said this entire journey. "I know they've never met you, but your story's travelled far. An ordinary girl who wasn't even supposed to be at the ball, helping form an alliance. Who loves reading just as much as the Prince does. The portraits your Kingdom sent of you-one of them hangs in the Kingdom's church, and many people go to see it, offering you good wishes."

"Oh my gosh," Betty whispers, leaning back into the seats. "I had no idea- I hope- what if they don't-"

"The entire Kingdom will come to watch the Wedding," Sweet Pea reassures "and every person there will see you, and love you."  

When they get to the palace, the King is standing by the front gate, and Betty swallows thickly. 

She's in a gown that Jughead sent her, with the rest packed into gilded boxes. She's supposed to stay in the palace now until the wedding in a few weeks. The gown is cool satin, with a high, folded collar and long purple sleeves. The gown itself is a mixture of blues and purples, and the matching shoes Jughead had sent her- exactly her size, matches it perfectly, flat ballet styles that wind up her leg. 

She hasn't seen him in so long, but the gifts, the letters- the heartfelt thought put into every word or every present, the way the letters are always so long and always on time, the way he wraps every gift himself. She misses him, she's worried that in her imagination he's become a dream that doesn't really exist. 

She steps out of the carriage, as Sweet Pea hauls out her things, and she swallows under the domineering sight of King Forsythe. 

He's handsome, just like his son, but in a rougher type of way. He has one or two scars on his face from battles she knows that Riverdale has fought and won, his beard is scruffy and dark and his eyes are the same piercing green as her future husband. He wears black clothing and a floor length, leopard print cloak. His gold crown is filled with a red, plush, middle, and he's waiting for her, so Betty hurries towards him. 

She courtesies, and he waves his hand to dismiss the act. "Please, Betty, my future daughter doesn't have to bow. Come, I thought I'd show you to your living quarters instead of the attendants. It might give us the opportunity to get to know one another better." He gives a few instructions to Sweet Pea as Betty squirms nervously. When he comes back to her, she's wringing her hands and he notices, quirking his eyebrow in an expression so like Jughead's that she relaxes marginally. "Don't be nervous, Betty," he murmurs smiling, he offers her his arm, and she takes it. It's thick and muscular, and they walk into the castle. "I don't bite." 

"I- I know, it's just-"

"My son's really rather taken with you." He begins as they head into the castle and up a carpeted staircase. "He's travelling the east but every letter he writes me has your name in it." His voice is coloured with amusement. "I should have known he'd find someone beautiful at that ball, but I was surprised to discover you were a lady in waiting. You worked for Lady Veronica?" They enter onto a long corridor.

"Yes, I was her attendant," Betty nods, swallowing. "I was just- I was exploring the castle, I know I shouldn't have been, but Jughead- Prince Forsythe found me, and he showed me his library and we just...we just..."

"Fell in love," FP finishes, nodding and smiling. "It doesn't surprise me. Jug's always had exceptional taste. Everyone I asked about you in Sweetwater only had the nicest things to say. Lady Hermione was particularly impressed. You're very clever, it would seem. And Jughead tells me you could work in the church for your skill of reading and interpreting prophecies."

Betty blushes, coming to a stop as FP stops, and she looks up at the portrait they're in front of. "I...I like to read, and piece things together." The portrait is finely done, as all royal portraits are, and she recognises it finally as a young FP, recently crowned King, with a baby in his arms. Jughead- it's Jughead. She stares at it, it's the size of the entire wall and one of the most detailed portraits she's ever seen. 

"You've read my son's, then?" He verifies.Betty nods. FP's voice is so commanding, it's no wonder, she thinks, that he's such a good King. "I was so proud when the monks informed me of it. That he was destined to do such great things. I fear because of it, I've shielded him from warfare too much. Has he ever expressed anything of the sort to you? His beloved?" 

Betty swallows thickly, and nods honestly. "I think so, but...but he also says how much he's learnt just from watching you. How brave you are, but never foolhardy. He says often that he wishes you didn't think less of yourself for the prophecy. He hopes to be even half the King you are." 

FP looks stricken to the core by the words, touched in a way that softens his harder features, and his eyes linger on the baby Jughead in the portrait. He pulls his eyes away and continues to lead her down the hallway, smiling. "I can see why my son is so gone with you, Miss Cooper. And you love him also?" 

"I do- so much, and not- not just because he's a Prince, I think..." she looks away, smiling to herself "I often think that sometimes, if we'd met in a completely different life and he wasn't a prince and I wasn't an attendant- that we'd still have found each other anyway." She risks a look up at the King. "I guess that sounds silly."

He looks down at her, kind and non-judgmental. "Not at all. It sounds romantic. It sounds like the sort of love I always hoped for my son." He stops by a large door, and gestures to it. "This is the West Wing of the castle. Jughead and I are based in the East Wing- it's not considered proper for the two of you to be alone and in close confines, but I trust you both. He's due back at dinner tonight, if you'd care to dine with us?" 

"I- yes please," Betty nods eagerly. FP smiled; pleased.

"Is there anything you'd like to have for dinner? Any meat you're partial too?" 

Betty blanched, eyes wide. She'd never been asked that in her life, and she wasn't even sure she knew what to pick. She liked mostly everything, so she shook her head. "What's Juggie's favourite?" 

FP laughed loudly, the sound echoing down the hall, eyes sparkling. "I like you a lot, Miss Cooper. You'll make a fine Queen," 

Betty watched him leave, heart thundering, and smiled. She was eager to join this family, and though she'd miss her sister, she knew she was happier back in Sweetwater, serving god in the nunnery. 

Betty went into her new room, to find all her belongings neatly placed in the corner, and her clothes unpacked and folded into the large cupboard. The bed was bigger than the first bedroom she'd ever had, and she sat on it carefully, choking on a gasp when she sank deep into it. It was the softest thing she'd ever felt. She jumped onto it in delight, laughing loudly. She could hardly believe this was her life, waiting to wed a gorgeous prince, in a beautiful Kingdom in a stunning palace, in a decorated room filled with clothes and gifts from her lover.

She kicked off her beautiful purple shoes and curled up on the chaise long beside the window and procured her Jerusalem legends, and began to read. 

At 7:30pm there came a knock on the door, that jolted Betty out of her light slumber by the window. She jumped up, setting down her book and rushing towards the door. It opened to reveal a young, curly haired girl, holding a small box of supplies. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said softly "I'm here to prepare you for dinner?" 

"Oh-oh of course, uh, come in," she opened the door wider, and the attendant gave her a weird look, but scurried in. She began unloading her supplies onto the vanity and Betty watched her, closing the door. After she was done, the attendant turned to face her and cleared her throat. 

"Ma'am...the bath?" She gestured to the bronze tub in the corner of the room and Betty's eyes widened and she nodded. 

"Sure- I'll..." 

The girl pointed to the tall standing sheets. "You can get undressed in there as the guards come to fill the bath? I'll stay right here." 

Betty nodded, darting behind the screen and taking a breath. She unclasped the purple dress carefully, folding it and setting it onto the plush chair. She heard the guards come in and exchange a few pleasantries with the attendant, hearing the gushing of the water into the basin and could feel the temperature rise in the room. After they left, she waited a beat, before stepping out. 

The attendant politely didn't look, as Betty sank in. 

It was blissfully hot, and there were rose petals floating on the surface. She sank into it and the attendant approached her with blue soaps and lotions. "Can I start, ma'am?" She asked in a quiet voice, and Betty nodded.

She began pouring different things into the water, and it changed the colours into a pinkish hue and added a fragrant scent, and then she began combing Betty's hair. She was gentle and it tickled, but Betty managed not to laugh. Soon she was pouring lotions onto her hair and Betty relaxed into the sensations. 

"Lean forward, ma'am," the girl whispered, lifting a jug to rinse her hair. 

Betty did as she asked, holding the sides of the basin as the water flushed down her back. "You can call me Betty," she said, feeling the soap on her shoulders. "Instead of ma'am, I mean. Betty's fine." There was silence from behind her, as the attendant cleaned her shoulders. "I've never...sorry, I've never had an attendant before, so I'm...you know," she trailed off. 

The attendant laughed, coming around the side and taking one of Betty's arms. She began rubbing in a shiny, glittery cream and Betty watched the methodical movements. "I'm Ethel," she said, and Betty smiled. "I'm generally the reserve attendant for guests. Now, I've been assigned to you. It's an honour. Everyone in the Kingdom is enchanted with you." 

Betty rolled her eyes, leaning towards Ethel. "C'mon, I used to be an attendant. You don't have to pretend to think I'm amazing before you even get to know me," 

Ethel laughed again, taking her other arm and applying the same substance. "That's true of some guests, but I genuinely was excited to meet you. Prince Forsythe is something of a heartthrob in the Kingdom and everyone wanted him to find someone exceptional- you've bested everybody's already high expectations. He's been much more friendly than he was before- just before his voyage he went down to the village nearly everyday, talking to  _commoners."_ Her voice dropped into a whisper as if it was an exciting secret. "And he was happy to do it! Apparently he even breakfasted with a cobbler. You've made him happy, and that's all anyone ever wanted for their future King." 

Betty blushed a furious red but hoped she could argue it was due to the steam. 

"And all the non-noble women and servants see you as a beacon of hope. Besides," Ethel began bathing her collar "the King publicly approved of you, and that was enough for even the few skeptics." 

"Enough about me," Betty waved off flippantly. "Tell me about you Ethel, what do you like to do?" 

Ethel looked thoughtful for a moment, before breaking into a wide smile. "I like playing the violin." 

Their conversation flowed easily, as she finished bathing Betty and then began drying her. Though the blonde girl was flushed with embarrassment it was easy not to get overwhelmed by it because of Ethel's manner. She treated it as if it were the most normal thing in the world and that made Betty relax. And then Ethel was bringing out a red dress, and Betty shook her head. 

"Oh, I have dresses in the cupboard," she pointed "gifts from Prince Forsythe, shouldn't I wear one of those?" 

Ethel smiled, smoothing out the dress and holding it out for Betty to step into. "This is a gift from Prince Forsythe, Betty. He has an entire room full of clothes for you. Also, it's tradition to wear red when greeting a member of the royal household after they've travelled."

Betty laughed, stepping into it and letting Ethel bring the dress up. "A lot of traditions, aren't there?" She laughed. The dress was cool against her skin, and was a slightly thicker material than she was used to. It wasn't as modest either, it exposed her arms and cut down just below her collar. It was more intimate, and she hitched a breath as Ethel tightened it behind her. She sat as Ethel put her shoes on despite Betty's insistence that she could do it herself, and then let Ethel move her head this way and that as rubies were placed onto her ears and a gold necklace was looped three times around her neck. Her hair was styled half braided at the top behind her exposed shoulders, and loose at the bottom. 

She sat still as Ethel painted on the red for her lips, and blinked in surprise at her reflection. 

She looked like a princess.

"There," Ethel smiled, standing. "You're wanted down at the dining hall now, Betty. Unless there's anything else?" 

Betty tore her eyes away from her reflection, and nodded nervously. "I'm fine, Ethel. Thank you." She moved towards the door, still reeling over the way her body had looked in the mirror. Her body had looked hourglass and ethereal, her skin pale as snow, almost flawless. She moved down the halls and realised why the dress was slightly thicker- the palace was cooler in these winter months, and she moved down the hallway, nodding at the guards who lined the walls. They didn't nod back, but they did tip their heads in respect. 

When she reached the dining hall, two guards opened the door, and she stepped inside. 

It was intimate, not the grand guest dining hall that was used for royal banquets. It was a small, circular table, laden with a bountiful feast, with only three seats. Candles decorated up the room, mounted on the sill and a roaring fire place lit it up, prickling it with warmth. 

The King stood up when he saw her, and he wasn't wearing his crown. Betty realised with a start that this truly was a family affair, and she was being included. It made her heart squeeze fondly. He was dressed in a red tunic and black trousers, a number of badges decorated the tunic from the many wars he'd won. "Betty," he smiled, gesturing to the chair. "Come, sit. Jughead will be with us soon." 

Betty sat down beside him, inhaling the smell of the delicious food. She noted that the chosen meat was pork, so presumably that was Jughead's favourite.

"You look beautiful. I hope you don't mind the earrings are a gift from me."

Betty reached up to touch them in shock. "Oh my gosh thank you, I didn't even think. They're beautiful, your majesty,"

"They suit you." FP approved, and touched her hand. "And when we're not in public, Betty, please call me FP. I'm not your King here, okay? You can be completely open." 

"Thank you, FP," she managed, smiling to herself. She heard a small commotion outside the door, the sound of armour as if guards were standing to attention. FP nodded at her, and she felt her heart flutter in delight. Jughead was going to be here- her Jughead. 

"He's just as excited to see you, I'm sure," FP murmured and Betty smoothed her hand down her dress. She could feel goosebumps breaking out along her shoulders and hoped no one would notice.

The door opened, but Betty didn't turn around. Instead waiting politely as the footsteps came closer, and FP stood. She followed suite, watching as the King and his son embraced.

"Good to have you back, boy," FP whispered fiercely, clapping his back. Jughead hugged him back tightly. 

"Good to be back, dad," and they pulled apart.

And then he turned and faced her.

Betty took a sharp intake of breath. 

He was beautiful, more beautiful than she remembered. He was wearing a- she double took. He was dressed like a commoner, with a loose white shirt and beige trousers. He must have come straight from the voyage, and not changed. His nose had more freckles, presumably from where he'd caught the sun, and his hair was longer and shaggier. It hung midnight blue into his eyes. He was slightly more toned than she remembered also, and he smelt like the ocean and distant spices. 

"Betty," he whispered, stepping towards her, and she jerked towards him. They both went in for a hug, but seemed to realise last minute that it wouldn't be proper. So he darted in hastily to place a kiss to her cheek, and a whisper into her ear. "For all I discovered in the East, their beauty was naught compared to you." 

She blushed furiously, words caught in her throat, as he took his seat beside her. 

Dinner was lovely, and she ate till she was full and tasted mead for the first time. She'd never seen the King so relaxed, as he and his son laughed openly, and she saw Jughead tipsy for the first time, laughing at everything and utterly adorable. 

After dinner, they were escorted to their separate rooms and she mourned the loss of him. But she remembered what FP had said about it being improper, and so decided that she would happily see Jughead tomorrow morning. Maybe they could spend the entire day in the library, or perhaps going down to the village. She was intrigued to see the church. She was just removing her earrings- her first gift from the King, and she was extremely careful with them, when her door opened and Jughead raced in, and leaned against it as he closed it. 

She stared at him in shock as he caught his breath, before their eyes locked. 

And then he was stalking right up to her, holding her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, his tongue reaching out to sweep across her lips. She gasped in surprise, and he pulled away. He tasted of mead and adventure.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. He looked wild and appealing. "I know I shouldn't be here, and I should go right now, but you are...you are divine. I love food, I  _love_ food, but I couldn't even taste it with you sitting opposite me. God, I missed you," he captured her face again, kissing her deeply until neither of them could breath, and she pulled away as he began kissing along her jaw. 

"I missed you too, Juggie," she breathed, shaking as he nosed along her throat, dragging his lips across the skin. She'd never experienced anything like that, but he didn't do more than press close mouthed kisses along her skin, before dragging himself away. 

"I've really gotta go," he whispered, smiling, and reached a hand up to pushed a stray curl behind her ear. She pressed her forehead against his, heart racing so fast she thought she might faint. "I love you." 

She let out a small squeak, before pressing a smiling kiss to his chin. "I love you too, you fool. Go to bed," she shoved him towards the door, and he grinned at her, darting out. 

When she was alone, she touched her lips with her fingers, and wondered with a smile, whether they'd ever stop tingling. 

 

Morning brought with it a cold day, but it was one of the best days Betty had ever had in her life. She and Jughead couldn't break eye contact all through breakfast, and so FP shooed them both out of the castle. They spent the morning riding through the village, meeting families and exploring the shops. Betty tasted the street food, watching as Jughead proved that he truly did enjoy every edible thing. She found a deliciously spicy vegetable being sold on the edge of a corner and Jughead bought her a basketful. 

They explored the churches and Betty could hardly look at the portrait of her, but was awed by the amount of flowers people had placed beneath it. 

The afternoon was spent in their meadow, the meadow where they'd kissed. The guards who'd been following them all day stood courteously around the perimeter, backs to them, as they lay in the long grass, and Jughead regailed her with stories about his trips. About the escapades that he and Archie had gotten themselves into. She asked him a thousand questions, and he answered each one more happily than the last. There was not a moment where he wasn't holding her hand, or she holding his arm, and when evening came around, they rode back to the palace.

Evening was spent in the library, as they lay beside each other reading. Betty, the legends, and Jughead on strategy. Dinner was the basket of spicy vegetables and some meat brought in by the attendants. 

"I think this is heaven," Betty whispered, and Jughead looked up, wiping the grease off his face and smiling at her. 

"Being here with you...when I was away, I started to think you were a dream," he reached out to cup her cheek, and she leaned into his fingers, nodding 

"Same for me too. But this...today, it's been...it's been so perfect." She laughed to herself "well actually, there is  _one_ thing wrong with today." 

Jughead grinned widely "what's that? The guards following us? The fact that I can't kiss you senseless?" 

"My back's sore," she said instead, and they both laughed. Jughead crossed his legs, shuffling towards her from where they were both situated on the bear skin rug. 

His voice became a touch more serious and concerned, as he caressed her cheek. "Did you not sleep well?" 

"I don't know," she frowned "the mattress was really soft, but I tossed and turned all night."

Jughead nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have another mattress bought in for you tonight."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Betty," Jughead cut her off, amused at her lack of understanding. "You will not be allowed to have anything less than perfect, do you understand?" 

She hid her smile behind his hand, and bit one of his fingers playfully. "You're spoiling me." 

 

But the next day, her back hurt just the same, and she tossed and turned all night. Jughead frowned, and had yet another mattress brought in, but the next night the same occurred. 

So on the fourth night, she simply looked at her bed, wondering. When the door knocked, she answered it in her satin ivory nightclothes, and ushered in Sweet Pea and Jughead. Sweet Pea immediately began lifting the mattress, hoping to look for the source of discomfort, and Jughead stood beside Betty, his arm around her waist. It was highly inappropriate, for him to be with her in her nightclothes, but that, she supposed, was why Sweet Pea was here. 

Jughead was sneakier than she thought. 

And then the guard was standing up, holding something in his hand. 

"What is it?" Jughead asked curiously, and Sweet Pea laughed in disbelief. 

"It's uh...it's a hard boiled pea, your highness." Both men turned to her in disbelief, and Betty paled in recognition. 

"Oh my gosh," she whispered, and she rushed to the book of legends, she flipped through them, as Jughead and Sweet Pea watched her. She found the passage, and turned the book to show them the title. "The Princess and the Pea," she read in shock "I read this one the other day, it's...it's a legend, a prophecy about a discovering a princesses worth and quality by the fact that she can feel even a tiny pea when it's covered with many, many feathers." 

Jughead walked towards her and hugged her tightly, kissing her head and laughing. "Didn't I tell you?" He murmured "you're the type of girl who has a thousand prophecies about you." 

Betty shook, laughing in delight, and nodding at Sweet Pea. 

They left her alone then, and she lay on her bed, amazed. 

There was more to her, she thought, than she knew. 

The story of the princess and the pea's prophecy being enacted with Betty spread throughout the Kingdoms, and those who did not love Betty before, surely did thereafter. FP beamed with pride as he spied the two of them walking, hands clasped behind their backs in an attempt not to touch each other, through the rose gardens. He watched from the observation tower, and nodded to himself. Completely certain in his belief that Jughead would be happy all his life, with that golden haired girl by his side.

 

The wedding, when it came, was a bigger affair than anything that had ever happened in the Kingdom's history. The alliance between the two clans was only one part of it, Jughead was the prince who would save the Kingdom and Betty was the prophecy princess who was also a warrior. 

Every member of the Kingdom came and all the nobles and many others from Sweetwater came too. Cheryl and Toni were in attendance together in complementary stunning gowns, and Josie and her sisters too. Veronica had helped Betty to get ready, before joining Archie in her seat. Queen McCoy came and shook hands with King Forsythe before it began. 

It was taking place outside, and due to the winter month, a thick sheet of snow covered everything. The aisle had been cleared, and the frosty trees surrounded the thousands and thousands there, sparkled with snowflakes, but the sun was still shining in the sky, cool and beautiful, nearly white in its divinity. The eye of god himself looking down in pleasure.

As the procession started, Ethel and her choir began to play the sweet music of violins and harps, and all the guests stood up. 

Jughead, who was stood at the head of the aisle, in a coal black tunic, his father's medallions on his shoulder, and his gold crown on his snowflake christened hair took a breath. His hair was styled neatly, with his signature loose strand, and it had been cut since his return, till it sat neater on his head. FP sat in his throne, raised above on a makeshift platform, and the priest stood beside Jughead. 

And then Betty stepped out.

Jughead half doubled over, much to the delight of the crowd who tittered merrily in response, but he could barely hear them. There she was, his princess, holding a bouquet of lilies in her hands, as she walked to the music up the aisle. She was wearing a white, silk and satin lace dress, whiter and purer then the snow, setting her skin flushed with pink in comparison. Her hair was up and tied under her veil, only a few purposely straying locks curled beside her ears. Long, silver earrings hung down almost to her shoulders, and a tight silver chain was around her neck. The dress was of a modest covering, but dipped down between the dip of her collar to show the smooth expanse of her skin. 

Jughead was sure that she was no hand maiden. She was surely an enchantress. No human being could radiate such beauty and perfection. She whispered thank yous and hellos to the people who lined the aisle, and nearly reached out to touch every commoner who was reaching for her. Jughead realised there were tears in his eyes, and he wiped them away quickly, grateful for the cold to assuage him. When she reached him, and he met her eyes of pure sapphire, he suddenly felt tethered and grounded in a way he never had before. "You're beautiful," he whispered "and I don't mean- you don't look beautiful, you  _are_ beauty."

She blushed beneath her veil, and the ceremony began. 

They cried on their vows, both of them, and that made most of the crowd start crying too. Even the King was seen subtly wiping his eyes. The Prince's hand shook as he slid the diamond encrusted ring onto her ring, a ring which had been in their family from the very beginning and was glistening with history.

When Jughead lifted back her veil, there was a collective gasp, as a cascade of snowflakes shimmered down her back and onto her ivory trail. 

He kissed her so hard he thought he'd bruise, but she leaned into every inch of it, and when they pulled apart, pink paint was smudged around his lips. She beamed at him, and he shook his head in awe. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, and she smiled, taking his arm as they walked up to kneel before the King. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Juggie," she laughed "we were made for each other by God." 

FP touched her chin, and cupped his son's face, before unveiling the tiara for the princess. The crowd admired it lovingly, as it had been made by the Kingdom's best blacksmiths and jewellers but no one had been allowed to see the finished product. Even Lady Cheryl raised her eyebrows; impressed. 

"To our new princess," FP called in a low voice that reverberated through the crowd, and he lifted the tiara.

Betty watched it in amazement. It was a slim thing of strung silver, embedded with the same jewels as Jughead's and in the same formation. It sparkled in the winter light, and was heavy with fortune on her head. As soon as the King had placed it there, the clouds began to snow. 

The Kingdom cheered so loudly it was as if the very ground beneath them was blessing their union. 

 

That night, in their marriage chambers, sated and content and warm in each others arms, Betty kissed the underside of her husband's jaw and said. "The way all this has happened...it's better than any and every dream I've ever had in my life."

"Not yet," Jughead smiled, trailing a hand down her smooth, bare back. "Tomorrow, on our honeymoon, we're going to Jerusalem and anywhere else you want. You and me, and Veronica and Archie, the open sea and we'll visit every library in the east." 

Betty sat up, and looked down at him in awe. He smirked up at her victoriously, and she laughed in delight, moving to straddle him, and pressing their bare chests together as she captured his lips in hers. "There are legends about our children, you know," she grinned, as they pulled apart, and she brushed his hair out of his face. 

"Well then," he began, nipping at her collar bone, as she shivered in his arms "we'd better get started."

And he pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to maybe do more of this 'verse, like their letters? Who knows, or maybe the same situation but roles reversed so Princess Betty. 
> 
> Definitely wanna do a dark betty/dark jughead vigilante vibe thing
> 
> BUT WOULD ALSO LOVE PROMPTS/COMMENTS/DECLARATIONS OF LOVE
> 
> you guys are fantastic comments who I love so anything you have to say even if its "what up girl nice fic" is something I would love. You make me happy MWAH MWAH MWAH xxx
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMERS  
> \- I know nothing about how Kingdom's work  
> \- I'm sorry at the beginning it's a bit weirdly forced but I'm hoping if you to got to this bit, it got better  
> \- sorry about tenses being weird at times i wrote this sleep deprived over the course of three days  
> \- i love you so forgive me??!?


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